


Back in Her Day

by unnoun



Series: A Spring Mother and Her Baby Carrot [1]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alien Culture, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Soldiers, Childhood Trauma, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Gen, Multi, Pre-Canon, Saiyan Biology, Saiyan Culture, Saiyan Instincts, Slavery, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28045452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unnoun/pseuds/unnoun
Summary: Life as a Third Class Saiyan on Planet Vegeta wasn't easy for anyone, and for a Saiyan like Gine, might just prove fatal. If not for Bardock, where would she be now?Basically just an exploration of Saiyan headcanons and backstory.
Relationships: Bardock & Gine, Bardock/Gine (Dragon Ball)
Series: A Spring Mother and Her Baby Carrot [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1481717
Kudos: 2





	Back in Her Day

**Author's Note:**

> Warning. This is probably going to get _really_ fucked up.
> 
> If you're here for Bardock and Gine (or any Saiyan, really) to have sex, then, well. Maybe when they're older. Not sure if that should be a separate fic. Or if I should mark those chapters.
> 
> But MOST of this is going to be Child Soldiers in a warrior culture doing war crimes.
> 
> ...And exposition about weird and probably dumb Saiyan headcanons and timeline stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fic in the series now but I DON'T necessarily think you need to read them all in, like. Order.
> 
> But just to talk about where some of these headcanons come from. Some of it is Toriyama interviews, like Gine's ["gentle personality"](http://www.kanzenshuu.com/translations/episode-bardock-akira-toriyama-super-qa/) or [Raditz being an "Upper-Level Warrior"](http://www.kanzenshuu.com/translations/saikyo-jump-january-2018-we-asked-akira-toriyama-sensei-saiyan-special-qa/) and.
> 
> Some of it is that I'm a biologist, and. Well, I could explain it here, but someone else's author's notes already have. [Dying Does Not Reponsible Parenting Make](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4344542/chapters/11938832) by Flawney.
> 
> TLDR; (and god do I hope that fic doesn't get deleted, it's _really_ good,) the fact that Saiyan babies are meant to conquer worlds at birth means they have to be very developed and independent. Most mammals that are very developed and independent at birth have to be in the womb for a very long time.
> 
> Humans are actually unusually underdeveloped at birth, and in order to be more developed, pregnancy would need to be a lot longer. And there are multiple reasons why it isn't. One is that human metabolisms just physically can't support pregnancy past a certain point. And another is that because we're bipedal, our pelvis has to be smaller, and a bigger, more developed baby would probably either die, or kill the person giving birth.
> 
> ...The issue is, in addition to a biologist, I am also a Dragon Ball fan, and when I think "Saiyans" and "fatal injury", I also think "Zenkai". The fandom term for the fact that, when a Saiyan gets close to death and recovers, they get stronger afterwards.
> 
> Because of that, giving birth to a three-year-old, breaking your pelvis and almost dying could actually conceivably be an evolutionary advantage.
> 
> It's so stupid. My friend SSVCloud and I have started calling Saiyans "Jackass: The Species".
> 
> Anyway, according to Dragon Ball Minus, Kakarot was in a nursing capsule for 3 years. So.
> 
> Because the Saiyans have those nursing capsules, and can incubate babies artificially, I'm probably not going to write Saiyans giving birth in this fic.
> 
> But, one bit of backstory I cooked up is. Well, if you survive giving birth enough times, and get stronger each time, then the Saiyans that give birth might end up being the strongest Saiyans. And Saiyans value strength.
> 
> It's mentioned that Saiyans had 'tribes' so for this fic. The tribes were matriarchal. Until King Vegeta I.

Floating, suspended in fluid, a world of blurred lights and colors and passing shadows, paired with distorted and muffled sounds and voices.

That's all there was, all there had ever been. Sight, and then sometimes darkness. Sound and its absence.

Slowly, the world got smaller, and smaller, and smaller, until the glass was too small, too tight, constricting.

Until, one day, it opened, and there was a solid surface, and weight, rushing forward.

Being born was very disorienting.

* * *

The new cub was already a disappointment. Just lying there on the ground, shivering and hacking up fluid, the fur on its tail waterlogged and drooping.

Still, it wasn't fair to expect too much more from a literal newborn, sometimes they surprised you.

So the neonatologist told herself, anyway, as she sat back on her haunches, tail wrapped around her waist, waiting for her charge to be ready for the test, the challenge.

After a moment, she sighed. Nothing else for it, then, she decided, and cleared her throat.

"~ _O Messhia, O Messhia~,_ " she sang, with her deep, gruff voice.

" _~Yuduliya Vele, Yuduliya Vele~,_ "

" _~Yuduliya Vele, Yuduliya, Iyaliya~_."

The brat continued coughing up fluid, but it visibly stiffened, and its ears seemingly perked up slightly in attention. Good. It wasn't _too_ dumb or disfigured, then.

It looked up, and something about the look in its dark little eyes was... _off_. In an indescribable way.

When it finished spitting up fluid, it got up and just stood there, staring and listening to the song until it ended. It didn't interrupt, didn't get impatient. Some didn't, that was fine. It might even have been a good thing. Whatever the King said, there was value in the old ways, keeping them alive, passing them on.

The neonatologist finished her song. Then she struck the newborn in the face.

* * *

The newborn fell back, clutching a hand to its cheek, and stared with eyes filled with... _betrayal_.

Then, shockingly, rather than any of the anticipated responses, it threw back its head and started _crying_.

The neonatologist had never seen this before, and would wager to guess that no Saiyan had. She wasn't much of a warrior, that was why she was a neonatologist after all, but she still remembered her own initiation in this ritual, when she had spat in her birthgiver's face and tried (and failed) to bite her on the tail.

Crying... didn't make any sense, actually?? Sometimes tears were shed as a result of strong emotions, that was fair enough, but making noise like this, drawing attention to yourself when you were injured, weak, afraid...

...Was she sure this was a Saiyan? After waiting a few more moments to establish that the cub wasn't about to fight, she approached the corner of the 'birthing' room (as her, ugh, _mother_ repeatedly pointed out, a name that was something of a misnomer), with the equipment rack where she had put her belongings. She pulled out her data pad and her scout scope, and checked the file.

NAME: ギネ (GINE)

CLASS: THIRD

ELITE PARENT: N/A

TRIBE: N/A

BATTLE POWER: 10

SEX CHROMOSOMES: XX

ABNORMALITIES: []

GESTATIONAL AGE: THREE

She blinked. The battle power had been a little higher than that when she had moved the pod in here.

The neonatologist hesitated for a moment, then held up and activated the scout scope.

Yes, there was the position, right in front of her, (obviously) and the reading was...

100... 200... 400...

The young Saiyan cried and cried and cried, and all the while the scanner beeped and shrieked while the number continued to climb.

For a newborn to have this sort of latent power was unusual; for a third-class it was unheard of.

The number topped off at around seven or eight hundred, stayed there for a moment, then, as the child's face stayed scrunched up and wobbly, started to plummet, finally resting at around 100, much closer to a more 'normal' newborn third class.

After a moment's thought, the scientist checked the box on the file and selected the combat track. Life out in the village would surely toughen this little one up a little more, and they always needed more high power levels.

* * *

The neonatologist didn't even _touch_ the cub. It jumped back the instant she moved, and before she could give chase, ducked between her legs.

She whirled around, because she was an adult, dammit, and a damn third class brat wasn't going to get the better of her, when her tights and one of her boots was thrown off the equipment rack and into her face, followed by her chestplate and medical robe.

Then, pain, and weakness in all her limbs at once, as she fell forward onto her face, unable to move. The damned little bastard was on her back, squeezing her tail, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do.

Her data pad was on the ground in front of her, taunting her with the screen on.

NAME: バーダック (BARDOCK)

CLASS: THIRD

ELITE PARENT: N/A

TRIBE: N/A

BATTLE POWER: 2

SEX CHROMOSOMES: XY

ABNORMALITIES: []

GESTATIONAL AGE: THREE

To be beaten so easily by a brat so weak, destined only to be an infiltrator at _best_ , was inconceivable. She growled with defiance, she was a Saiyan—

"AHH! FUCK!"

She cried out in pain and shock when she felt the teeth in her flesh, right next to her spine. She could feel her skin and muscle tearing, and she felt the sudden numbness and cold and emptiness in her flesh.

"I YIELD, DAMMIT!" she shouted.

The child let go of her, then grabbed her data pad and brought it over, the box for career assignment highlighted. She managed to sign it, unable to avoid a hiss when the movement tore her wound wider.

As she dragged herself up, the young Saiyan walked over to the door to the room and opened it with ease, as if it had been watching her when she had brought the nursing capsule in here.

Then it turned back to her, and she stared, caught between flight or fight as it approached, and got closer again. She was injured, she couldn't—

It threw her other boot at her, grabbed her by the tail again and broke her knee, sending her down, this time draped over the child's form.

When this time she felt teeth digging into her chest, she passed out, sure this was the end.

When she awoke in a medical chamber hours later she was extremely confused.

* * *

The streets of Vegeta were actually surprisingly peaceful, especially if you knew anything about Saiyans, but if you thought it through a little more, things made a little more sense.

One of the central innovations of the Vegeta dynasty was unification, the last thing they needed was something disrupting it. So fighting was heavily penalized in residential areas, or anywhere with infrastructure.

The Cold Force and the business of Planet Trade actually helped a lot, what with the majority of the population being off-world at any given time. In one sense, the only 'permanent' residents were the King, the 'professional' staff in the labs, flight terminals and meat-distribution, and Saiyans approximately five galactic standard years of age or younger.

Third-Class children, (at least those strong enough to keep, and not sent away as infiltrators) had a somewhat paradoxical existence.

The problem was, Saiyans were, as a rule, incredibly disinterested at taking care of their offspring. They weren't typically actively hostile or malicious; indeed, the fact was that Saiyan children could often get away with things that adults couldn't, simply because, with their smaller, more helpless-looking bodies, and larger, more expressive heads and eyes, they tended to look a lot cuter.

(Especially without all the muscle mass, scar tissue and body and facial hair that older Saiyans tended to have, as a rule.)

But actively looking after your children, much less someone else's, was always another matter entirely.

While there were less and less of the old Matriarchs all the time, the commonly accepted, traditional wisdom was that, after nearly dying giving birth to you, a Saiyan parent (and, unsaid, no matter what the so-called 'King' thought, the only parent one could truly be certain of was one that gave birth) had done enough, and it was up to you to take care of yourself.

Scientists, on the other hand, both those Saiyan scientists native to Vegeta, and occasional guests and collaborators from the wider Cold Force, and even the Galactic Patrol, tended to view things the other way around. In their view, Saiyan gestation had started taking longer and longer, and natural birth became more and more dangerous, because Saiyan parents had been so disinterested in childcare, and so the offspring needed more self-sufficiency.

Everyone of course, agreed that the Saiyan tendency to grow stronger after brushes with near death was the biggest factor in their continued survival as a species.

(Only the Tuffles, however, ever identified the way that Saiyans became addicted to the rush of this 'full release', and noted how many Saiyans eventually died as a result of seeking it out, by way of throwing themselves into more and more danger, while the power gained from the experience grew steadily less and less past a certain point.)

The solution to Saiyan childcare that King Vegeta II eventually hit upon, was essentially the same as all of the other 'reforms' he and all the King Vegetas made: Redirect some other aspect of Saiyan society and culture, and use it as an advantage.

So as a result, from birth every Saiyan alive was considered part of the military. Saiyan children tended to be given the lowest rank, and older Saiyans would 'take care' of them as superior officers, giving orders, which the children would obey.

Additionally, because nobody wanted the brats underfoot, (and because the only thing worse than being called 'uneducated monkeys' all the time was that it might be _true_ ), young Saiyans were given instruction at certain times, to at least be sure they could speak, read and write the galactic standard language, do basic mathematics (especially helpful when buying and selling things, like planets,) and, maybe, in a pinch, know enough about space that your ship won't get totally lost if you're by yourself.

This system had some unusual effects when combined with the more 'natural' method of childhood survival, which was to join up with another Saiyan child, and try not to get in each other's way until you were strong enough to earn status by striking out on your own.

The principle was actually relatively simple. If you're a young Saiyan, odds are you aren't the strongest Saiyan around. If you get hungry (you're a Saiyan, you're _always_ hungry) you'll probably need someone's help to get fed. But, while adults don't care about you enough to help you, and probably don't need your help with anything in return, other kids are probably in the same situation that you are, and if they end up betraying you after, well, at least that's a fight you might be able to win on your own.

Putting all the children in one place, even if only for hours at a time such as waiting for meat distribution or during lesson time, gave a lot more opportunity for bonds to form, but _also_ meant a lot more opportunities for conflict with peers, rather than superiors.

While two child Saiyans could team up against one adult Saiyan, two child Saiyans teamed up against two child Saiyans just meant that two child Saiyans would get beaten up. It made _way_ more sense to have _three_ child Saiyans team up together against _one_ child Saiyan.

Alliances and trusts got made and broken not just every day, but on a moment to moment basis. Saiyans, if anything, became less and less trusting overall, just because of how often they betrayed each other the instant it became slightly advantageous. More than astronavigation, the biggest lesson of the Saiyan military education system ended up being: 'Never trust a Saiyan'.

* * *

Seripa was _incredibly_ bored, but at least it was almost over.

After finishing the equation for the escape velocity of Planet Vegeta, she turned in her data pad and walked out the door.

As usual, waiting out in the hallway was who else but fucking _Bardock_.

Seripa's tail wanted to bristle, but she didn't let it. Instead she turned and started heading to the instructional facility's meat distribution centre, and hopefully wouldn't run into any problems on the way.

"Why do they call you Fasha?"

Seripa froze, then turned, regarding her fellow Saiyan wearily.

Despite being a newborn, a year younger than her and only out of the nursing capsule for a few weeks, Bardock had already earned a reputation.

He was quiet, and didn't talk unless you talked to him first and sometimes not even then, (so the fact that he had addressed her the way he had was already setting off emergency sirens in her head) and seemed at first to be the easy target, the one everyone ganged up on, because of the way he looked at everyone like they were beneath him.

That had lasted until a gang of twenty had gone after him, and he had somehow vanished right as they started attacking, despite being right in the middle, and as a result they'd all just ended up beating the hell out of each other.

Which wasn't even the thing that had earned him a reputation.

No, what had earned him a reputation was the fact that, when the farce was over, and they were all either unconscious or had slunk off to hide from the royal guards or find him for payback, he'd dragged the fallen and injured to the medical capsules to get healed.

Most of them weren't close enough to death to actually Zenkai from it, they were just children, and didn't have any dangerous techniques, or access to weapons. But one or two apparently had gotten some amount of power from it, so they had come back, and tried again... Only for the exact same thing to happen again. And again. A few times.

At first, this lead to one of the cadets getting strong enough to force everyone else to work together against them, and that seemed like it had been Bardock's plan all along. Until it turned out, no, this sudden and chaotic readjustment of the internal politics of the attendees had gotten the attention of the instructors and guards, which Bardock took advantage of to slip into meat distribution, and steal enough food for _everyone_.

And, because they were Saiyans, and there was _never_ any such thing as 'enough' food, they'd all started fighting over it, and Bardock had ended up dragging them all to the medical facilities.

(Seripa's matri... nan, nana, granny, whatever, had snapped at her for it, when she heard, though Seripa still wasn't sure if it had been for not being injured enough to Zenkai, or for not coming up with the plan herself.)

"...Why?," she deflected cautiously, trying not to let the way he was staring but _without_ focusing on her eyes get to her.

"I already know it's meant to be based on 'Fascist'," he said bluntly, "but is it because your matriarchy is descended from the Tuffles that enslaved us, or because they want to replace the King?"

"...Neither," she answered after a moment. "They call me 'Fasha' because I reported some of them to the royal guard for copying answers for an assessment they didn't understand."

The creepy little shitstain's eyes practically _gleamed_ when he heard her say that. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to get stranded with anyone here one day because they were given a piloting job they shouldn't have been."

She turned away, and walked to meat distribution, trying to forget about the conversation.

And, of course, the instant Seripa got to meat distribution, she heard running from the hallway behind her.

"SERIPA!"

She didn't even try to fight when the other Saiyan jumped at her and gave her a... 'hug'.

Everyone assumed that Gine was weak because she never started fights.

Then you tried to punch her. And if you didn't break your hand, it would just have no effect on her. She might not even notice you'd done it. She could even think it was just a 'game' and then send you flying when it was her 'turn'.

Or, if it _did_ actually hurt her, instead of hitting you back, she would get those 'tear' things in her eyes, and start... _crying_. And it was so _loud_ , and with Saiyan hearing being what it was, fighting her was more trouble than it was worth.

She was different around adults though, like the instructors or meat distributors or, on one occasion, Seripa's nan. She was deferential the way a Saiyan should be towards a superior.

(If anything, nan thought she was _too_ submissive, didn't show enough inner pride.)

Seripa was pretty sure she was the only one who had figured out this meant Gine considered herself the superior of every other recruit.

"What are they serving today?" Toma asked as he came into the room.

Gine took a sharp breath, and they looked up at the front of the line.

"What are those things?" Seripa asked, curious. They sure _smelled_ good.

"Ubutsans," the meat distributor answered. "We got them as payment for a world. From their own government, if you can believe it." 

Seripa curled her lip. Slavery was a _disgusting_ practice. "So, we get 'em live?" she asked, making the gagged aliens squirm in their bonds.

Gine looked a little uncomfortable too, actually.

"Just take one," the worker told Seripa as he slung the captive over her shoulder. "If you want more, you can come back later."

After looking around, Seripa found a cliffside, that she decided was the best, most defensible place to eat.

All around, other Saiyans were already eating, loudly, messily, and Seripa had to be honest, call her a Tuffle, (she'd fight you if you did, but) she didn't like her food raw, much less wriggling. So, she raised a hand, concentrated, and grinned when she managed to get the alien with a fiery ki blast through the heart.

She ate, and took a moment to look around at her future comrades-in-arms. Some of them were making a show of letting their lunch almost escape, only to cut them down at the last moment. Some were making them beg, plead for life.

Toma had started with the throat of his, which was a good choice, she couldn't fault it. Less screaming without a voice. A bit messy, and it wasted so much delicious blood on the dirt, but, hey, to each their own.

And Gine?

Gine was just... _staring_ , straight ahead, like she couldn't even see her meal even though it was right in front of her, like she wasn't aware of the world around her. It was really weird, actually.

Seripa was idly chewing on a tougher bit of gristle when she watched as Bardock walked across the desert, empty-handed.

She sat up, suddenly more intent, as she realized he was heading directly towards Gine. There'd been a lot of bets about what would happen if those two fought, like _hell_ was she going to miss it.

She was disappointed when he just ended up killing the alien for her, and they both started eating it. Talk about an anticlimax.

A freak sandstorm started a few minutes later and Seripa groaned as they all went back inside.

The last thing she wanted was to be cooped up with _any_ of these Saiyans.

* * *

She looked up, when his unfamiliar spiky-haired shadow passed over her.

He grabbed the Ubutsan ('PLEASE!' they kept begging, making the world blur, her body shake, 'DON'T KILL ME!') by the throat.

"Stay very still, and don't make a sound." he said so quietly she thought she imagined it.

"I'm going to pretend to kill you, and she and I are going to pretend to eat you. But really, we're going to be eating this other food I have here."

She looked, and he was in fact holding a cloth bag, with delicious, mouth-watering (formerly- _alive_ ) meat sticking out of it.

"Lunch will end early in about five minutes because of a sudden sandstorm," he continued. She looked up at her fellow Saiyan because _how could he know that._ "While we go back inside, as long as you stay on the ground and try to stick to the canyon, you might just end up buried instead of having the flesh stripped from your bones."

"But you'll have a chance," he said, and for some reason, she thought he was talking to _her_.

"T-thank you," the Ubutsan said.

Bardock put his hand on the alien's head as his forearm wrapped around the throat.

A loud, violent-sounding _crack_ echoed across the field.

(For some reason, the food he got her was the best she ever had in her too-short life so far.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Ubutsan' is based on how 'Saiyan' and 'Saiyajin' are from 'Yasai'. I looked up and found 'Tsubu' for 'grain'.
> 
> The song during the 'birth' is from the lyrics of 運命の日〜魂ＶＳ魂〜/Unmei no Hi ~Tamashī tai Tamashī~/"Day of Destiny ~Spirit vs Spirit~". It sounds like it's meant to be Hebrew (albeit written by Japanese people, so the pronunciation is off), and. I mean, I'm Jewish, so, if anyone is allowed to project way too much here, it's probably me.
> 
> ...I love [Brilliant, Blinding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16286231/chapters/38088029) and its version of Bardock, and I swear it wasn't on purpose, but man the ending of this chapter is a lot like the end of that fic's first chapter, isn't it. Whoops. My bad, lol.

**Author's Note:**

> [I've set up a discord thingy if anyone wants to talk about my fics with me,](https://discord.gg/bCW5B22) ~~even if I'd rather see comments here, tbh~~
> 
> (Ask for the "NSFW" role if you wanna talk about this fic specifically, but ONLY if you're 18+. Please.)


End file.
